


Unseen Moments

by Thistle_Dragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beltane, Christmas, Comfort, Dragons, Fluff, Hurt, Loss, Love, Magizoology, Marriage, Miscarriage, Owls, Rare Pairings, outdoors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5592529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistle_Dragon/pseuds/Thistle_Dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1/ 'This, this was one of the reasons he'd fallen for his little sister's best friend.'<br/>2/ 'They'd still not even started to put together the pieces of their shattered hearts.' </p><p>The moments in our lives that mean the most, are often those that are unseen by the rest of the world.<br/>Not epilogue compliant. Not always in chronological order. Triggers will be tagged - so please check tags! I will also label the in the chapter summary so as single chapters can be avoided if desired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1st May 2004

It was five thirty in the evening and the sun was just about to set. A small fire burned on the sand, reflecting off the grubby side of the canvas tent that stood in the relative shelter of the hillside.

He had wanted to surprise her, and so the soft, pliable ground beneath his feet was his friend. Reaching out for the canvas, Charlie carefully opens the flap of the tent and steps inside; the wards have been set to allow him in so nothing will alert the woman inside to his presence, which gives him time to take in the picture in front of him. 

He takes in a breath as he watches her in the warm glow of the lamp light. She sits at the old wooden desk scattered with parchments, photographs and quills. He knows that the book open in front of her is one of her many journals, and he's in no doubt that she's writing about, or sketching Maya. His eyes move from the desk to her hands, where she holds a quill, a sugar one – her favourite – it's half sucked away and currently moving rapidly as her hand expertly dances across the paper; she's sketching. 

His gaze shifts and he notices that her hair is held back in a loose plait that falls round and over her left shoulder, it's ties in the customary old bootlace – for luck, she'd told him the first time she had doe it with his lace. Strands of her blonde hair spring out of the plait and dangle happily around her face, clearly damp. 

One look at her clothes tells him she'd been caught in that torrential downpour just ten minutes ago. Her cream shirt is partially see through, the sleeves are rolled up, and the way the neck seems to high on one side but almost fall off the shoulder at the other means she's undone the top two or three buttons. Flitting his eyes down, he can see her bare legs, warmed presumably by the wood fired stove that sits in the middle of the space, and her trusty brown leather hiking boots and her thick wool socks kicked off under her desk.  
When he looks over to the small metal stove, he notes that her soaked khaki shorts are lying out on top of it to dry. 

He can't see her face the way she has her head turned slightly away from him, and still hasn't noticed him standing there; she's clearly utterly absorbed in her work. But he can't wait any longer and he clears his throat and speaks. 

“You know, it's no good for you sitting there in damp clothes, you'll catch your death.” 

He smiles as Luna turns round to face him, wide eyes and a smile to match. “Charlie!” She calls excitedly as she stands and pushes the chair back so quickly it wobbles on it's already unstable legs. “I didn't think you'd be here so soon!” 

She rushes to his open arms, jumping a little as he lifts her off the ground and lets her legs wrap around his waist.

“Thought I might come and surprise you. Why, you too busy to see me?” He chuckles and kisses her. 

The low throaty laugh goes right through her as his lips met hers. She'd not expected to see him yet, it hadn't even been a week since the ridgeback eggs hatched, and she had been sure the would be no way he could leave so soon.

She breaks the kiss and laughs too. “No of course not! You're just earlier than I expected!” 

His eyes meet hers. “I couldn't wait 'till tomorrow.” 

He crashes his lips against hers again, and Charlie knows he'll never get enough of her soft lips against his as he feels the wetness of her clothes against his as the dampness starts to seep through his own t-shirt. 

Barely pulling his mouth from hers he mumbles into her lips. “I think,” He brushes his thumbs against the bare skin, between the hem of her shirt and the waist of her knickers, “that we should get you out of these wet clothes.” He raises his eyebrows and grins. 

Luna smiles against his mouth, a small, almost smirk, and whispers back. “Oh, I think that's a very good idea.” And she pulls the bootlace from her plait and shakes her hair loose so that it cascades down her back. 

Her lilting voice floats to his ears and Charlie carries her over to her desk. With a careful flick of his wand, sends her papers and sketches into a neat stack on the armchair nearby and then sits her on the old wood. 

As he stands between her legs, he can see the goosebumps on the pale flesh of her neck, and under the damp fabric of her shirt and her thin bra, he can see where her nipples have stiffened from the chill and from the friction of their contact. 

Slowly he undoes the buttons on her shirt, slips it off her shoulders, and down her arms, dropping it to the floor beside them as he leans over and kisses her neck, nipping at the soft flesh while his hands slide round her and undo her bra then moving to kiss the small mound of her breasts, as he drops the flimsy piece of lace, discarding it on the floor beside her shirt, leaving her in only her crescent shaped moonstone necklace. 

Luna gasps when Charlie ghosts his calloused fingers over her nipples down to the waistband of her knickers, fingers barely touching her abdomen. She shivers, a combination of the air hitting her damp skin, his touch, and his warm mouth on her breasts, first taking one nipple into his mouth before moving to the other, drawing a soft moan from her. 

As he withdraws his mouth from her chest, Luna pushes her hands under his t-shirt and he sucks in a breath when he feels her cool fingers connect with his hot skin as she pushes his plain black t-shirt up and over his head. 

Still savouring the sweet taste of her, he hungrily pulls at the thin cotton fabric of her knickers, pushing the waistband down as she lifts her hips to ease their path down her legs and off onto the floor, then she opens her legs again, pulling him in close to her so that his bare abdomen brushes the small strip of soft, dark blonde hair between her thighs. 

Her nimble fingers make easy work of the fastenings on his trousers, pushing them and his boxers down in one quick motion to fall at his ankles as he kisses her again, drawing a soft sigh of contentment from her as she lifts her arms to join round his neck. 

He presses himself against her, his rock hard cock pressing against her belly where he stands between her spread legs. He leaves her mouth and moves down, pressing feather light kisses on her chin, her neck, her collar bone; down the valley between her breasts and then moving to take one nipple in his mouth, rolling and sucking then releasing it and moving to the other, his hands grasping at her hips. 

He looks up with his eyes as he lets her nipple pop out of his mouth and he can see her head tipped back in pleasure. He moves down over her sternum, and he can taste the mountain air on her as he presses hot kisses against her damp skin, over her taut abdomen as he moves his hands to spread her legs further, and kneels in front of her. 

When he dips his tongue inside her warm, wet heat, she threads her hands through his hair, and when he slowly presses two fingers inside her she tugs at it just enough not to actually hurt. As he draws moan after moan, he knows that the slight scruff on his face will have scratched her soft, creamy skin, and there's something about her marking him just that little bit, that turns him on even more. He doesn't stay there for long. He wants to be inside her, and he can tell from the way she presses against him that she wants it too. With a careful suck and a gentle kiss to the most sensitive part of her, he moves up her body, and when he reaches her lips, he kisses her as though he's been starved of her – and he knows that he has – and pulls her forward on the desk and pushes into her, eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure followed swiftly by a breathless moan of his name. 

He starts slowly, pulling out languidly then slowly burying himself to the hilt in her. He brushes his hands up her creamy thighs and she starts to move against him, rolling her hips as he grips at them with just enough pressure. The feel of her soft flesh under his rough hands was something he'd never get tired of.  
And as he moves in her, he watches her, her skin glistening in the soft light of the tent; her body is silhouetted slightly by the firelight from outside as it surrounds her like some sort of sorceress and it's utterly mesmerising. 

Luna has her arms wrapped under his arms and around his back, and as he thrusts up into her, her fingertips dig ever so slightly into the muscle that's been formed through years of working outdoors, keeping her upright as they move in unison.

He can feel the heat pooling in him as his balls tighten, and around him, he can feel her too. The soft walls inside her starting to flutter and he starts to move quicker, pounding into her, and he knows that like this he won't be able to hold off long enough for her to come, so he slides his hand between her legs. 

He can feel her wetness on his fingertips as he rhythmically coaxes her tiny bundle of nerves, and just when he thinks he can't hold off any longer, she gasps and he feels her tighten around him in almost a vice like grip as she throws her head back calling his name to the stars. The sight and sound of her is enough for him to let go, and he thrusts deep into her, releasing inside her everything he's been holding onto for the last few weeks. 

As they both pant and smile, wraps his arms around her, his whole upper body engulfing her tiny frame as he pulls her towards him, relishing the scent of her skin; the fresh scent of rain, sun and the outdoors, mingled with something that little bit sweeter, headier, something floral that never fails to undo him completely, and her head flops forward onto his shoulder, her hair brushing tantalisingly against his skin as they regain their breath.  
It's only then that he realises just how much he's missed her for the last month and a half while she's been here, at the other side of the world practically. 

“Merlin I missed you Luna.” he manages to breathe out as he kisses her collarbone. 

Her reply is muffled, “I missed you too.” But then she lifts her head off him and looks at him in the eyes, smiling that smile that he's sure is only for him. 

Charlie can feel himself soften and slip out of her, and he misses the warmth immediately. He can feel her shivering against him too, and he lifts her up, her legs still wrapped around his waist, and carries her to the bed and lowers her down onto the old mattress covered with mis-matched blankets and a soft feather duvet, then climbs in with her and pulls the covers up around her shoulders holding her close to his chest. 

When their breathing returns to normal, Luna asks softly “How's aurora? I do worry about her when I'm not there you know.”

Charlie knows how much she loves that particular dragon. She'd been on the reserve three years ago when he and Darius had first brought the opaleye in, injured and so very close to death. But she had taken a shine to the beast and had helped him and Darius nurse her back to health, although the dragon would never be able to live outside captivity again. 

“She's good, she misses you though. Nearly barbecued Smithson last week though when he just waltzed into her pen to feed her.”

Luna sits up suddenly and looks at him, totally aghast. 

“It's ok.” Charlie chuckles and pulls her back down to him. “You know Smithson, always thinks he knows it all. Won't be going to see our Rory any time soon though I don't think. Serves him right the arse.”

He can tell what's coming next when she turns her head to face him, and he pre-empts it as he kisses her forehead. “Don't worry. Darius is with her. Stephan is going to come out first thing tomorrow to help with your vipertooth.” 

That vipertooth was the reason he was here. A couple of days ago, Luna had found an abandoned baby while she was finishing up her work here in Cusco. She had contacted him straight away, and she was already involved with the Peruvian Ministry's beast department because of her discovery.  
Between the reserve and the department, they'd decided it was best for him and another keeper to come and take the young dragon to the reserve and then possibly release it back into the wild when they could be sure it had a decent chance at survival. 

“Oh good, I always feel terribly guilty leaving her, even though I know you and Darius take good care of her. I;m glad he's stayed at the reserve with her.”

This, this was one of the reasons he'd fallen for his little sister's best friend. She loved animals, she loved almost every creature she came across, from the ones that happily snuggled up with her as she read or sketched, to the ones that would happily eat her alive at the first chance they got. There weren't many like her in this world and he intended never to loose her! 

The thought caught him by surprise, but he shook it off quickly. His mum had harped on at him for years to find a nice girl and settle down, but it wasn't for him, and Luna seemed more than happy with their current status. The revelation made his heart race, and he quickly changed the subject. 

“How's Maya?”

Maya was Luna's new owl. She'd apparently found the little creature during an early morning walk. The little ball of feathers had an injured wing, so Luna had taken the bird back to her tent and taken care of it, patched up her wing and nursed the little owl back to health. Charlie vividly remembered her worried tone when she had flooed him after making sure Maya was comfortable. He remembered even more vividly, the sketch of the little bird that Luna had sent – at first he'd thought she must have eaten something funny, because it wasn't brown lie Errol or Pig, and certainly wasn't white like Hedwig had been, no, the sketch depicted a red-orange bird with bright turquoise eyes – but then a photograph had fallen into his lap from inside the envelope, and there, perched happily on the arm of Luna's favourite chair, wing bandaged, was a brightly coloured owl with eyes almost the exact same colour as in the sketch. 

“She's fine, out hunting now I expect, sunset seems to be her favourite time, that's part of why I named her, or rather her species, what I have.”

When Luna had gotten in touch with the Peruvian Ministry about the little owl, they hadn't a clue what she was talking about, and it had in fact taken her several attempts for them to take her seriously – having assumed that she was talking utter nonsense.  
Eventually they had listened to her, and as it turned out, she'd not only rescued the bird, but discovered an entire new species! 

“They let you name the species? Luna, that's bloody brilliant!” Charlie sat up so quickly that Luna fell off him. “What did you choose? Why didn't you tell me?!” He looked down at her, unbelievable excitement rushing through him for her. 

“I wanted to see your reaction in person.” She smiled up at him, the grin spreading up her cheeks and into her eyes. 

He took her face in his hands and leant down to her. “Merlin Luna, you are amazing!” He kissed her thoroughly before breaking off for air. “How on earth did you manage that?!”

“Oh, the Peruvian Ministry were very accommodating actually – but I think it might have been because Rolf put in a good word for me – he knows the minister here quite well, through his grandfather of course.”

He kissed her again, quicker and more playfully. “So, what did you call it then?” He asked as he lay back down, his arms behind his head.

“Well, her eyes are so bright, so clear, just that exact shade of the river, and her feathers are such a stunning colour, I could only liken it to the beautiful sunsets here, and of course, she prefers to hunt at this time of the evening, so it seemed only right that I name the species something fitting.” 

At that moment a soft hoot came from the direction of the door flap, and a small red-orange owl swooped onto armchair, and blinked it's large turquoise eyes. 

“Oh, here she is.” Luna propped herself up on her elbows and turned to look at Maya. “She must have heard us talking about her.” She turned back to him. “Charlie, I'd like to introduce the Mayan sunset owl.”

The little gave another soft hoot. There was no denying that Luna had chosen the name well. 

“It's brilliant! I think she likes it.” Charlie beamed as he watched the owl ruffle her feathers and turn her beak to the task of grooming them. 

“I think so too. I just hope she will be happy with us back at the reserve.” 

Charlie heard the sadness in Luna's voice and swung his head round to see her sorrowful face. “Luna, are you ok?”

“I feel bad taking her from her home Charlie, but she's spent so much time with me, and I feel a connection. And I'm afraid with her injuries, she wouldn't survive for long in the wild. It's incredibly sad, but I want to give her a chance with us.”

“Of course she will be.” He reassures her, reaching out to rub her arm with his hand and pull her down to him. “I don't know anyone she'd be happier with.”

Luna kisses him, softer than before, not as desperately as they had earlier. And before he knows it, she's sitting on top of him, looking down at him with that soft, other-worldly smile on her face.


	2. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Warning: Miscarriage*
> 
> 25th December 2004

Katie looked at the Burrow. The Snow had covered the home and made it look like something from a magical fairytale. The howling wind whipped across the hillside, creating a cold storm not unlike the one that swirled in her heart. 

She'd felt so isolated in the last six weeks, the whole family had been so excited about Christmas, but she'd not been able to find anything more than icy heartache. Beside her, she felt her husband's hand clasp warmly around hers, and she steeled herself, ready to face the day. She was determined to conceal her feelings. 

They walked up the snowy path in silence; there wasn't a footprint to be seen. Most of the family had either stayed over night, or they were flooing directly into the house, but she had told him that she couldn't face it - not yet. 

When they reached the faded green door, he turned to look at her, a sadness in his eyes that hadn't existed before. 

“You ready love?” He said softly. 

She nodded, and gripped at his hand tighter when he pushed the door open slowly. 

The smell hit her first, of roasting turkey and stuffing and potatoes, of simmering gravy and boiling sprouts and steaming Christmas pudding. That was followed swiftly by the heat from the fire and the cooking, and immediately after that the warmth -the true warmth - of Molly Weasley's kitchen engulfed her as her mum-in-law bustled across the room and gathered her in her arms, pulling her to her bosom and hugging her tightly, apparently favouring her daughter-in-law over her son. 

“Oh Katie dear, I'm so glad you could make it sweetheart.” She pulled back and took Katie's face in her hands. “You're looking much better, but why don't you come and have a nice cup of tea, come on dear, take off your coat, tell me all about it - I'm sure Ron here will be a dear and hang it up for you.”

It used to un-nerve her when Molly did that, but now she just accepted it. The woman had been like a second mother to her, for which she was beyond grateful – some of the horror stories her friends had told her about their mother's-in-law had made her cringe. 

She couldn't bring herself to speak a word, and she knew it was rude, but the words just wouldn't come out, so she pulled of her hat and gloves, balling the latter and tucking them inside the former, then shoving them in her coat pocket just before shrugging it off and handing that and her scarf to Ron, giving him a small smile of thanks as she sat down at the old, worn table. 

Within seconds, a mug and biscuit appeared in front of her and she looked up to see the kind smile of Molly. “There we are dear, you get that into you, you must be absolutely frozen! And you eat that biscuit too – but don't tell Ronald, if he knows I have them in here he won't stay out of my kitchen – you know what he's like!”

“Thanks Molly,” She smiled back, but it was empty and she knew Molly could tell. “I won't say a word.”

For almost twenty minutes, she sat in the cosy kitchen, silently drinking tea, all the while feeling Molly's concerned eyes boring into her as she moved effortlessly around the kitchen, setting pots and pans to boil, knives to chop vegetables and dishes to wash. For as loud and brash as Molly could be, she was also the one that understood Katie best. She had suffered in a similar way, she'd felt loss stab at her heart in a way no mother should. 

Her eyes welled and she blinked the tears back. She knew if she stayed there much longer Molly would feel the grief of loosing Fred all over again, and Katie knew that she couldn't allow herself to upset Molly. She wasn't going to let anyone know, she was going to push it so far down, they'd think she was ok. 

With that thought, she stood, pushing her chair back more forcefully than she'd intended, causing it to scrape against the softening floorboards, and making Molly turn from the pot she was currently tasting from. 

“I'm just going to go and say hello.”

She knew she couldn't put it off for much longer, and she just wanted to get it over with. 

“Well, if you're sure dear, no one expects you to...”

“It's ok Molly, really.” She half smiled, a genuine smile this time because she knew Molly truly cared. 

She heard them before she saw them – which was usually the way when the whole family were together. 

Arthur and Bill were noticeable by their absence – out in Arthur's shed no doubt. 

She held back tears as she watched Hermione sitting on the firmer of the two old sofas, cuddling Victorie close and reading her a book whilst Neville seemed to be fiddling with Molly's potted poinsettia that sat whistfully on the side table.  
Percy was on the little girl's other side, nodding enthusiastically as the witch read out facts happily.  
At the far side of the room, Ginny and Oliver were standing either side of James, hands prepared to catch the toddler in case he fell of the toy broom that was hovering less than two feet off the ground. Harry and Susan sat close by on the other sofa, watching James with large, proud smiles as they each fed a tiny baby girl.  
Luna was lying across the armchair, her head resting on the arm and her feet dangling off the other as she sketched, her parchment resting against her large bump.  
Katie couldn't help it as her heart clenched, and the unfairness of it all washed over her in a wave of bitterness. It hurt her so much that Charlie had gotten Luna pregnant entirely by accident.  
She hated that Luna was so care free, laughing at George and Charlie, who were diving around on the floor by the fire with little Freddie and Dominique, Freddie screeching in delight and Dominique jumping and shouting in excitement about something to do with dragons and water and fire.  
That earned George a laugh from his wife, and looking pleased with himself, he crawled across the floor and kissed Parvati's small protruding belly with a grin that stretched from ear to – well...  
And on the floor, further back from the fire, Fleur was sitting with her legs crossed, six month old baby Louis nestled happily in the middle. Ron was sitting beside them, his arm outstretched towards his nephew as the baby grasped her husband's finger and rammed it in his little mouth. 

The sight of her husband and his nephew was too much, and she choked back a sob, flinging her hand up to cover her mouth as she turned away and ran from the living room, through the kitchen, and out into the cold, slamming the back door as she went. 

Ron jumped up from the floor and rushed out of the room, following his wife. He'd offered to spend the day at home, just the two of them, but she'd said she was ok with it – but he should have known that it would be a disaster.

Katie didn't stop until she reached the wood shed, where she finally let out a gut wrenching wail as she collapsed heavily on the depleted pile of logs. 

His mum called to him as he ran out of the door, but he didn't stop to answer. He ran along the edge of the house, rounding the corner to the wood store that sat just back from his Dad's tinkering shed. And there she was, sitting on the top of the small log pile, her arms wrapped tightly around her and he could see her shaking – if it was from the cold or from crying he didn't know, so he strode over and pulled off his jumper – blue, with a golden 'R' – and handed it to her. 

He'd been worried about her for the last few weeks, he knew this was her way of dealing with Christmas, with the day that was going to break her heart several times over. 

“Here, put this on.”

She didn't move to take it, and she didn't look up to him either, she just kept her chin down, staring hard at the frozen ground.

“Come on love, please, put it on.” 

She sat staunchly still except for the shake in her shoulders, and he was sure now it was a mix of crying and the cold, because he could see the tears dripping off her nose, and it was bloody freezing out here. 

“Please, for me.”

That seemed to get through, because she reached her hand out and took the jumper and pulled it over her head, wrapping her arms around her again as soon as it was on properly. He hated seeing her like this.

As soon as she was in his arms, she broke down – how much more are they going to take from me Ron, how much more? 

He didn't know. He thought they'd already lost enough. They'd pretty much taken his childhood, and they'd taken 6 months of her life. They'd taken everyone's sense of safety. They'd taken his brother, his friends. They'd even taken the school, for a while. But it's what they'd taken after the war had ended that hurt him the most, even more than it had hurt loosing Fred. They'd taken their children from them. 

The first time it happened, it was the last week of November last year. He'd come home to find her curled up on the sofa looking pale and sweaty and clutching her stomach. He'd never been the most observant of men when it came to women's things, but he knew that it wasn't right; so he did the only thing he could think of in his confused and worried state, and floo called his Mum – she'd arrived in seconds and told him gently that they should go to the hospital.  
The healers, once they'd checked Katie over, had given their stoic sympathies and sent them home, saying that nature would run it's course and to just keep an eye on things. It turned out they'd conceived just after their wedding at the start of October, but apparently it wasn't uncommon to loose a pregnancy at seven weeks.  
They'd come home that time to his mum waiting with a sad smile, hugs, and a pot of home made chicken soup – good for the soul she'd said. 

The second time had been in March. Katie had recognised the tiredness, the slight nausea, and when she did the test potion, they were both beyond nervous.  
After what had happened before, they decided to keep the news to themselves for a while, but as eight weeks passed, they allowed themselves to be happy, tentatively told their families and closest friends.  
Just two weeks later she'd shaken him awake in the early hours of the morning, and when he opened his eyes to the soft light of the bedside lamp, she'd pushed the covers back off herself. He could see the blood had seeped through her nighty and stained the bed sheets.  
That time he wrapped a blanket round her shoulders and floo called his mum to let her know what was happening, and then silently apparated them to St. Mungo's. Again the healers had given their sympathies but told them that at ten weeks, things were still risky, especially with her history.  
That time, they came home to tearful cuddles from his mum, and were sent to bed to rest in the freshly changed bedclothes. 

When they'd found out the third time they'd been so worried. They didn't tell the family until two days after she was twelve weeks. As the days passed, he'd watched as she'd had to change her bras from the fairly pretty numbers she usually wore, to softer, comfier ones because she was heavy and sore. He'd seen the way she'd had to magically expand the waits of her jeans and trousers. He'd held her hair and rubbed her back at midnight as she'd thrown up, and he'd cursed whoever it was that had called it morning sickness, because she'd been ill all day most days. He'd not complained when she banned all smelly food from the house, especially the garlic chicken he loved, because it turned her stomach.  
And when they'd visited the healer they'd been so happy - they were told that all these things pointed to a strong, healthy baby. For fifteen and a bit weeks, they'd been happy. But that happiness was gone, a distant memory even though it was only six weeks ago. 

There had just been so much blood, and he was sure that if he closed his eyes all he'd be able to see is a veil of red, and the image of her pale and bloodied. He couldn't get the sight out of his head, or sound of her scream, it was branded into his memory that would surely bring nightmares for a long time to come, and truly he wasn't sure what this would do to his wife. 

Everyone had been in the kitchen, all laughing and smiling as they ploughed through the dinner his mum had made. He was halfway through his second helping of desert when he heard her scream his name. He'd jumped up as soon as he heard her, and he'd taken the stairs two at a time. 

He'd felt sick when he saw her sitting on the bathroom floor, leaning against the bath surrounded by a pool of claret that seeped slowly across the bathmat.  
Blood was smeared all down her thighs and on her hands, and her discarded at her side. Her eyes were wide with fear and hurt when they met his.  
It felt like forever, but really it must only have been seconds, if that, before his mum and his friend's wife appeared in the doorway – he'd not have even known they was there if it hadn't been for his mum's gasp. That's when he knew it was worse, so much worse, than last time - his mum was always good in a crisis, but she was so visibly shaken.

The minutes after that had been a bit of a blur. Susan had taken charge, and he could vaguely remember her shouting for someone to notify St. Mungo's whilst she examined Katie. He could remember being told to keep Katie awake and he could remember his mum pressing towels between his wife's legs to try and absorb some of the blood. 

He'd scooped Katie up carefully and cradled her against him and when they'd arrived at the hospital, she was lying pale and unconscious in his arms as blood soaked through the towels and onto his forearm.  
When Susan and the medi-witches had cleaned her up, and finished administering blood replenishing and pain potions, they gave whispered condolences and left them to their grief with a sad nod, and a bottle of dreamless sleep for her. 

He lets the tears roll down his cheeks as he blinks the memories from his mind. They'd still not even started to put together the pieces of their shattered hearts. 

She shudders against him and sniffs loudly. “I just want to be a mum Ron, I just want to be a mum. It's not fair, I didn't do anything wrong and it's like I'm being punished and...”

Her sobs grew louder and he didn't know what to say to her – he'd never been much good with words – so he just tugged her in closer, kissing her head as he rubbed her arm. 

“I know love, I know you do. It's not fair, not fair at all.” Tears came unbidden to his own eyes and when he blinked, they rolled down his cheeks and onto the top of her head. 

He wiped at his face with his freehand. “You've not done anything wrong at all, you've got nothing to be punished for, nothing.”

He could feel the fire of fury start in his gut. This was all Malfoy's fault. He didn't give a flying fuck what Harry had said about forgiveness and Malfoy being a scared kid. That bastard had hurt his Katie and he wanted to wring the scrawny bastard's neck for how much pain he'd caused her. 

“Don't.”

It was one word, but he knew her meaning. They'd been through this a hundred times. He got angry – furious – and she talked him down, told him that it happened before they were a couple, that it wasn't his fight to have. He disagreed – she was his wife and it was his job to take care of her. They were his babies – he was supposed to protect them. 

Her soft voice broke his thoughts. “I didn't mean to upset Molly.”

“You didn't love, she's just worried about you, we all are.”

“I know. I just – the kids, seeing the twins, you and Louis, and Parvati – it should have been us too Ron, it should have been us too. ” Her whisper turned to tears again. 

Without a word, he summoned their coats and hats, and helped Katie into hers before pulling on his own. 

“Come on love, let's get you home.” He stood and tugged her up gently.

Katie looked towards the house where smoke billowed from the chimneys “But Molly she...” 

“It's alright, Mum'll understand.” Ron hugged Katie to his chest. “More than anyone I should imagine.” He added quietly. 

“But all that hard work, she's been cooking since dawn..”

“Don't worry Kates, I'll floo her soon as we get home – and you know what Mum's like – she'll send Charlie over with more food than we'll be able to eat in a week.”

Katie nodded quietly in acquiescence then looked up and kissed Ron softly then huddled into his side as they walked slowly down the path to the apparition point, leaving a trail of footprints in the snow.


End file.
